A Compilation
by FlightyBird
Summary: A compilation of short-stories and drabbles that were just too short to make into full stories. Most are from the point of view of America and are UKUS. Varied Ratings/will be posted at top of the page. Requests are welcome if trully wanted.
1. Let Me Go

**First Drabble, originally posted on DA. **

**America's POV/Rated T for character death/Revolutionary War**

* * *

His body was heavy and his legs were weak below him as he tried to keep a straight path through the woods.

The screams, they echoed in his ears louder than the sounds of the cannons and tears, tears poured down from his dulled blues as his body pleaded for air.

He could feel the horrible lurch of his body as blood spilled from behind his shaking, red stained lips to spill on a tree before him.

Leaning against it all he could see was red, red bodies gaining on him fast as he let weak sobs leave his ever broken body.

Turning he staggered and continued to run or so he tried, legs trying to make him fall every few minuets, vision hazy from lack of breath.

Then all he could see was empty space as the ground gave way and there was a drop down into the depths of the ocean, rocks littered and broke the water.

His tearful eyes stared into the raging waters before he turned to stare back at the men rushing for him to take him back to his red, golden cage.

The men started slowly to fall from his vision as he was held in nothing but the air, his sobs not stilling as he fell down to the waters below him.

His body hit the waves and he fell even deeper till he was surrounded by the darkness of the ocean, no more gasping breaths, no more sobs.

His eyes closed as he silently pleaded, silently pleaded against all odds in the world...

Let me go.


	2. Tea

**Sitting at home eating Nutella and Peanut Butter sandwiches while drinking sweet white tea...a good way to calm down.**

**America's POV/UKUS/Rated K/Romance-Fluff**

* * *

I hate tea.

It's flavor is too bitter and gross, almost like eating leaves fallen from dying trees.

On days like today I find myself sitting in his house, yet again at his table while he stands in the kitchen with large brows set in concentration.

He isn't a graceful man.

He curses as he trips over the rugs set in his kitchen and he growls when he almost knocks over the kettle, hissing angrily as it boils.

There is a deep concentration though, an art in the way that he makes tea or at least that's what I see through my tearful eyes.

Finally he turns to me with a mug and a plate in hand.

He hands them both to me with a small smile, steaming pink tea smelling of citrus and a small sandwich in the shape of a loving heart.

It reminds me that even the most bitter of things can even be sweet.


	3. Only Him

**UkUs/K+/Warning: Really Sappy and a bit of Angst. **

**Basically I just want to do something where Alfred was depressed, hurt, and really stressed. Then I wanted some comforting and really nice Arthur because I'd expect him to be this way as a lover. Yeah...**

* * *

He's one of those people.

He seems so tough on the outside like he doesn't give a shit if you're hurting.

I know differently though.

It was my usual night-time routine of climbing into bed feebly where I could wrap around my soft foamy pillow.

A shirt of his wrapped around it snug like a pillow case giving it the disguise of a human body as I either slept or tonight, wept.

Shoving my tear stained face into my pillow I heard the soft knocking on the door meaning he had come to see if I was okay.

Our dinner together had been quiet, me unwilling to join in his small talk as my insides writhed with stress induced depression.

Letting himself in he came to my side and settled down beside me wrapping me in warm arms that were never too strong or weak to hold me.

His words were soft and sweet.

Promises of hopes and dreams though my mind would only hear it's own screams of hopelessness and self-hate.

Still over the roar and crash of my stormy, worn mind he tried to call for me like the waining lights of a lighthouse far in the distance warning me that I'd gone to far.

Then suddenly I felt myself pulled from my facial embrace of my pillow to his chest where he held me so softly like the sound of the lullaby now being sung.

It sounded like something my mother would sing.

All I could do was sob uncontrollably until finally I left him and my conscious state for a world of sleep.

I left him with only the soft rise and fall of my once heaving chest as well as the brokenness inside that I knew only he could fix.


End file.
